One elderly female who had been wise to choose some other day to revisit her native town, discovers her basket flung up against a pillar, like wreckage from a storm, and settles herself down upon it with a sigh of relief.

She remains unmoved amid the turmoil, save when a passing gun-case tips her bonnet to one side, giving her a very rakish air, and a good-natured retriever on a neighbouring box is so much taken with her appearance that he offers her a friendly caress.

Restless people--who remember that their train ought to have left half an hour ago, and cannot realise that all bonds are loosed on the eleventh--fasten on any man in a uniform, and suffer many rebuffs.
"There 's nae use asking me," answers a guard, coming off duty and pushing his way through the crowd as one accustomed to such spectacles; "a 'm juist in frae Carlisle; get haud o' a porter." "Cupar Angus ?"--this from the porter--"that's the Aiberdeen slow; it's no made up yet, and little chance o't till the express an' the Hielant be aff.

Whar 'll it start frae ?" breaking away; "forrit, a' tell ye, forrit." Fathers of families, left on guard and misled by a sudden movement "forrit," rush to the waiting-room and bring out, for the third time, the whole expedition, to escort them back again with shame.

Barrows with towering piles of luggage are pushed through the human mass by two porters, who allow their engine to make its own way with much confidence, condescending only at a time to shout, "A' say, hey, oot o' there," and treating any testy complaint with the silent contempt of a drayman for a costermonger.